


Poker Face

by Werewolfbeans



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Porn With Plot, Sort Of, its a porno plot does that count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werewolfbeans/pseuds/Werewolfbeans
Summary: It's a slow night at The Devil's Casino, and King Dice isn't one for boredom.





	Poker Face

**Author's Note:**

> a commission!! one of the first times ive written smut so pls be gentle w/ criticisms (but feel free to leave some)

In the late, after-hours aftermath of the casino’s patrons, you couldn’t help but think about how  _ cold  _ it can get- after all, this is Hell, for christ’s sake! Why are your nipples currently hard enough to cut through  _ diamond _ ?!

 

Fortunately, you had other, more  _ important  _ items on your agenda- such as the grinning, fully clothed, dice-headed asshole grinning down at you from his oh-so comfy chair. Not that yours wasn’t comfy- but the idea of only having a thin piece of cloth between you, and the ass attached to a wheezy cigar, put you on edge. 

 

“Wipe that grin off your face, Slick- you’ve had WAY more experience with this game than I have. This is borderline criminal!” You declare, throwing down your cards in frustration. This only made Dice’s grin grow wider, and he simply folded his cards, the plastic disappearing with a flick of his wrist.

 

“Don’t be such a sore loser, sweetcheeks- you’re the one who wanted to play, remember?” He taunts, hands folding under his chin. “Besides, I’d argue this worked out  _ considerably  _ well.” He says, not-so-subtly eyeing you up and down. If you weren’t so pissed off at this obvious swindle, you may have been embarrassed. Or not- you’ve changed a lot while staying at the casino- so much so, it’s surprised, and maybe even terrified you.

 

You had arrived at the casino...well, not really worse for wear, honestly. You were in an okay spot- you lived alone, and while you weren’t dirt poor, you weren’t exactly living with the ritz. You didn’t have enemies- and you didn’t have any family nearby, yes, but you weren’t lonely. You, in reality, had no reason to walk into The Devil’s Casino.

 

And yet, here you are.

 

Now that you think about it, you suppose it was simple curiosity that drew you in. After all- flashing lights and loud noises  _ do  _ tend to draw people in. The only reason you weren’t immediately kicked out- for not only being broke at the time, but having no need, nor want, to gamble your money (or soul) away- was because both The Devil, and his manager, King Dice, thought you looked  _ just  _ good enough to allow you to loiter.

 

Nowadays, The Devil had other problems to worry about- two runaway debtors, and a slew of those who owe him souls. You just hope it doesn’t turn sour- it’d be a shame to lose the casino, after all.

 

When you had first arrived at the casino, you didn’t do much- lack of greed will do that to a person- but you  _ did  _ enjoy watching  _ other  _ people play their life savings away. At first, Dice thought you were just a scout- someone sent in to see how the place was run, before reporting back to someone and filling them in on the secrets. It took a lot of explaining, yelling, and pleas to  _ not  _ completely destroy your ass, but, eventually, you were allowed to stay- in the slot room, at least. Can’t outsmart a machine, any how. 

 

You glared at Dice, before gathering up your pile of clothes, intending to leave him high and dry. It was after-hours at the casino, and King Dice had suggested a round of poker to pass the time- you were still waiting on your ride, and he was bored, and didn’t want to talk to Devil for fear of his temper getting the best of him,  _ again.  _

 

Of course, that game of poker turned boring, very quickly. When there’s no stakes, why bother playing? Sure, the rush of a win was fun for a few times, but before long, both King Dice,  _ and  _ you, were ready to quit. Until he suggested a different kind of game- strip poker. You had barely played  _ regular  _ poker to begin with- but, it was just you two in the casino, so even if you had to waltz around in, what, your undershirt? It wouldn’t be that big a deal, right?

 

When you were down to just your bra and panties, though, you started to wonder if Dice had  _ other  _ activities in mind, aside from winning. Maybe there was a prize you weren’t sure about- though, you doubt he’d pull something like  _ that _ \- right?

 

...Right?

 

“Oh come on- don’t leave so soon, doll! The game ain’t over yet- and your ride isn’t here, either.” He reminds you, standing up with you. He was right, anyhow- you didn’t feel like walking  _ all the way home _ , and your ride had yet to get here- and by the pace of things, you doubt he’d even show up, period. He always  _ was  _ unreliable transportation- you made a mental note to go kick his ass later, when you eventually see him again.

 

“The game is over when I  _ say  _ it’s over, you overgrown cube.” You huffed, crossing your arms. You didn’t exactly  _ want  _ to leave- Dice was, although overbearing and crude, fun to be around. He always had a wisecrack to make, or a joke to tell you on the side, during one of The Devil’s many rants. He was rough when he needed to be, and you’ve seen his bad side  _ more  _ than enough to know how scary and ruthless he can be, but, when it came to you? 

 

You two were like bread and butter.

 

“Oh? So,  _ is  _ it over, then? You’re more than free to get dressed back up in those rags of yours, if you want to be a sore loser.” He says, fixing his own clothes. With his expertise (and probably cheating, now that you think about it), he’d managed to stay fully clothed, for the most part. In the very beginning, you managed to get a win, and his jacket was discarded on the floor, but afterwards, it just went down hill…

 

“I’m not a sore loser. You’re just a dirty cheat.” You tell him, pointedly. You made sure to scrunch your face up in irritation, turning so your back was to him. You knew the casino workers were less than trustworthy, and much of The Devil’s wealth had accumulated from shady business practices, bullying, and plain old  _ cheating _ . Dice was no different, and although he knew it was the truth, he didn’t like being reminded.

“I’m not a cheat- don’t blame  _ me  _ for you bein’ such a sore loser, and a shitty poker player as well.” He huffs, coming over to you. You were never a tall person, and you were fine with that- but Dice seemed to be  _ extra  _ tall, even for a ‘toon- making him tower over you. You remember the first time you met him- he had snuck up behind you (unintentional, of course), and scared you so bad, you fainted.  _ Fainted _ . He didn’t let you live it down for MONTHS- and he still brings it up even now, once in a blue moon. It was honestly a little irritating, but lord only knows you bitching about it would just make it  _ worse _ .

 

You glared up at him, eyebrows knitted close together in irritation. “I’m not a sore loser.” You repeated, again, before sitting down on a nearby couch, huffing. Okay, maybe you WERE a bit of a sore loser. You deserved to be one, though, dammit! ANYONE who puts up with these yahoos deserve to pitch a fit once in a while, especially when they’re practically naked as a result of this.

 

He simply rolls his eyes, and comes over to stand behind you. You knew he was trying to make you nervous- especially after you’d told him that being  _ directly  _ behind you often made you nervous- but you tried your best to ignore him. He was just trying to get a rise out of you- yeah, that was it. Just trying to get your goat. Nothing sinister going on in THIS casino.

 

“Calm down,” He says, putting his hands on your shoulders. They were firm, and large- encompassing your whole shoulder- reminding you of the many times he’d crushed someone’s head, or picked them up with ease. He didn’t look like much, but he was the Devil’s right hand man for a reason, after all- and he wasn’t afraid of reminding you, apparently.

 

“You’re so  _ tense  _ all the time- it’s like you never have fun, darlin’.” He mentions, starting to rub and massage your shoulders.  _ That  _ makes you tense up more, and you side eye him. You can see that he has that signature  _ grin _ , but you don’t think anything of it- he almost ALWAYS has that look, and it always makes you want to smack the absolute shit out of him.

 

“I have fun. I have plenty of fun- I’m having fun right now.” You say, tersely, crossing your arms for the umpteenth time. “So much fun- you should really get in on this, Dicey, it’s like a god damn party in this bitch.” You say, shoulders hunched in defiance of this unasked for massage.

 

You’d never admit it, but good  _ lord  _ do his fingers work magic on those knots.

 

“Obviously.” He says, moving to sit beside you. “You need to learn to let things go once in a while, doll- not good for you.” He murmurs, putting an arm around you. Oh. Oh,  _ now  _ you see where this is going. This is the exact plot of some cheap porno, somewhere in the world (probably in this very casino, if you didn’t know any better)- you’re sure of it. 

 

You can’t believe it’s  _ working _ , too. The NERVE of some people!

 

You just look at him, eyebrow raised, and expression unamused. “Would one of those things be my standards?” You ask, grinning when he gave you an irritated look, before he decided to grab your arm- hard.

 

Such a gentleman.

 

“You need to learn some  _ manners _ , girl- you mouth off way too much, and it’s obvious that  _ someone  _ needs to put you in your place, girl.” He says, practically yanking you off of the couch. You gave out a startled yelp, before you started trying to pry his hand off- the NERVE of some people! You aren’t some doll to sling around- even if they’re low, you DO have standards.

 

“YOU need to learn how to not break my arm, you overgrown car decoration.” You snap back, beating on his hand- fruitlessly. You knew he wasn’t letting you go unless he wanted to, and as terrifying as it was, hanging three feet off the ground and staring him in the face?

 

It was the hottest thing you’ve experienced.

 

He doesn’t answer you- verbally, at least. He just rolls his eyes, and plops your ass right on the poker table you two were previously occupying, placing both hands on either side of your hips. Even with your elevated stature, he still towered over you a few good inches- clearly, he was trying to imply who was  _ really  _ in charge here.

 

You debate on harassing him more- try and take charge for yourself, but before you can  _ really  _ decide on what to do, he’s already kissing you- which, despite his oddly-shaped head, isn’t that bad! His ‘stache tickles, and he tastes more like cigarettes than anything, but the way he kissed you was  _ more  _ than enough to make up for it.

 

It takes a minute, but, eventually, you start to kiss back. You didn’t exactly have a crush on Dice, or anything, but you  _ could  _ admit he was a smooth motherfucker- enough to make you swoon, anyways.

 

Not that you’d tell him, of course.

 

He takes that as the go-ahead for rubbing your sides, because before you know it, those big hands are groping you practically  _ everywhere _ . He’s rough, even with those silky gloves, and you absolutely  _ love  _ it. He ends up rubbing right up under your rib cage, on your sides, which makes you arch your back, breaking the kiss with the quiet groan you let out. That always had been a sensitive spot for you, but you never expected it to feel like  _ that _ .

 

You can  _ feel  _ his grin, especially when he opens his mouth to say, “My my! A bit sensitive, hm? No worries, dear- that’ll just work out better in my favor, truth be told. Just lay back, and let  _ me  _ do all the work, hm?”

 

You  _ want  _ to smack him upside the head, but he goes to kissing your neck before you can, and, honestly, with the way he’s biting you, and sucking on one of your soft spots, you think you can forgive him- just this time. Definitely has NOTHING to do with the fact you’re, well, currently melting on the table. Metaphorically.

 

As he starts to leave hickeys- much to your disdain, like, you HAVE a roommate, how are you going to explain those to her- you start to rub his chest. Since his jacket was off, it was a tad easier, but the vest and shirt wasn’t exactly making it as easy as pie, so to speak. You couldn’t unbutton them either- easily, at least. Thanks to his block head, you had to crane your neck over to give him room. Not that you  _ mind _ \- between the hickeys, and those hands rubbing your sides, you can learn to forgive him.

 

As you work on removing his vest (and shirt, while you’re at it), he reaches behind you with a single hand- unclasping your bra, and tossing it into the void for you to find later. You lean back to yell at him, but, the words die in your mouth when he switches from your sides and hips, to your chest.

 

You never  _ did  _ have a sensitive chest- aside from pinching bras, you almost forgot you HAD boobs- but good  _ lord  _ does he work magic on it anyways. His hands themselves are just a tad too large- encompassing both tits with just his palms- but he has no problem with holding you in place, using his thumbs to rub, massage, and swirl your teats, sending little sparks right up your spine.

 

You think it’s safe to say he has you wrapped around his finger, by now- and he knows it, judging from that god awful look he’s giving you. You swear- if you weren’t red faced and shuddering, you’d give him an ear full.

 

“Wipe that look off your face, you buffoon,” You mutter, the fire gone from your voice (but not your spirit). He just rolls his eyes at you, again, grinning a little. 

 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk, sweet cheeks.” He reminds you, one hand going down to rub you through your panties. You know what? You think you’ll agree with him, for once- after all, it’d be a shame if you did anything to make those magic fingers stop.

 

You take a note from his book, and instead of telling him to mind his own damn business, reach down as well. Your hand slips in his pants- thank god he didn’t wear a belt, for once- and you start to rub  _ him  _ through his underwear. Although it isn’t very accurate, you can already tell you may need a bit when it goes in- he  _ is  _ a rather large person, after all, and it seems to be in proportion, at the very least.

 

In layman’s terms, his dick is bomb.

 

It’s also fairly hard already- or, you think, anyways. You’ve never really given any dicks a good rub before, and while it feels firm, it still has some give to it. You give it an experiment squeeze through his boxers- being gentle, of course- just to see how much give it still had. It was more than you honestly expected, and judging from the low groan he made, that was perfectly fine.

 

Before you could have some real fun, though, he pulls back- taking your underwear with him. You glare up at him, a silent ‘What the fuck, dude?’, but all he does is ignore you. He reaches down, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them, and his underwear, down far enough to expose himself- but not taking them off all the way. You’d feel offended, but the sudden realization of what’s about to happen made you feel too giddy to care about how cold you were, and how he basically threw all of your clothes to the other side of the room.

 

He comes closer again, his hands settling on your hips as he grinds against you. You can see what you’re up against, now- literally  _ and  _ figuratively. It wasn’t ridiculously long- if you had to guesstimate, you’d say it’s roughly six and a half? Maybe seven inches- but what it ‘lacked’ in length, it made up for in girth. You could still close your hand around it, but it was still enough of a handful to make you nervous.

 

You swallow your fears, though, and reach down to grasp his dick again- earning a hum of approval from Dice, which prompted you into actually stroking it. You were being careful- swiping your thumb over the head to create and use some pre as lubricant- while he removed his gloves. You wondered what he was planning, before he reached down to experimentally rub your slit. You shuddered- you had been expecting ice cold hands, so when they turned out to be warm, it was a very welcomed surprise.

 

He took your content sigh as a green light- delving deeper, rubbing and prodding around, swirling his thumb around your clit. It didn’t exactly startle you- but with how wet and sensitive you were just from the earlier escapades, it was still enough to force a moan out of you- much to your disdain, and his delight. You swear, if he says one thing-

 

“If I’d known you were  _ this  _ responsive, I would’ve taken what was mine earlier.” He purrs, using his other hand to rub circles in your hips.

 

“And just what do you mean by ‘yours’? I’m not your property, Dice.” You inform him- your voice was shaky, and you were practically holding onto his shoulders for dear life- especially once he slipped two fingers inside of you, testing the waters and stretching you for what’s to come.

 

“I see how you look at me, girl- did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” He asks, fingers curling in you, making you gasp- mostly from shock, but, hey, you’re not that picky. “It’s not something to be ashamed of, though- as long as everyone else knows who  _ you  _ belong to.”

 

When he pulls back, removing his hand in the process, you’re ashamed to say you’re a fucking  _ mess _ . You can feel your face burning, you’re needy and you want him to hurry up and fuck you into the table already, and dammit, you’ve already lost your shame today.

 

“Yeah, whatever- just hurry up and ‘claim’ me before my pussy dries up and I go home.”

 

His expression drops from smug asshole, into disappointed old man, and you can’t help but grin up at him like a smug asshole yourself. He doesn’t respond- he just puts his hands on your shoulder, forcing you down.

 

You yelped in surprise- attempting to sit up and yell at him, again, before he grabs your legs and pulls your hips flush against his own. He grinds against you, briefly, before lining himself up with you, and slowly pushing in.

 

It burned just a little, you won’t lie, but it wasn’t a stretching kind of burn. You’ve taken longer members before, but not quite as many thicker ones- and you honestly can’t remember  _ why _ . He was stretching you- but it was comfortable, and was itching a scratch you had no idea you had. You squirmed- wiggling your hips until you two were flush together- and even then, you were still trying to grind against him, bounce a little, get  _ any  _ kind of friction going.

 

He chuckled at your neediness, but apparently decided against making fun of you for it- maybe he was feeling nice, now. His hands moved from your legs to your hips, and he started to move- slow, long strokes, gyrating his hips once he was back inside of you.

 

The movements were good enough for you- you let out a content sigh, your hands gripping the edge of the table to try and keep you grounded while you rocked your hips. He took your neediness as a sign to move faster- gripping your hips harder as his strokes turned into thrusts.

 

He didn’t waist any time in picking up the pace- the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room, along with both of you grunting and groaning. If you weren’t close before, you were now- with his hands scratching down your sides, and with him hitting all of those hidden, sweet spots, pressure was building, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold out.

 

From the way he was leaving bruises in your hips, hunched over you and pistoning himself in and out of you, you doubt he was far behind you in that regard. You use a hand to grab his disheveled shirt, and yank him down- kissing hard. He kisses back- hard and deep, filling you with that cigarette taste again- while you reach down to rub your clit in time with his pounding.

 

It didn’t take very long for you to be pushed over the limit- with you rubbing your clit a tad aggressively, and with him hitting a sweet spot repeatedly, you came-  _ hard _ . It caused you to cry out, breaking the kiss and squeezing your legs around his hips with enough grip to crush a man’s head like a sparrow egg.

 

With you squeezing around him like that, his hips jerked upwards, into you- causing him to curse, loudly, before you felt something thick and slightly warm inside. You just hope ‘toons can’t procreate with each other, because good lord are you going to have something to bitch about, later.

 

You both sat there for a hot minute, panting and sweaty, before he finally, slowly, pulled out of you. He carefully tucked himself back into his pants, adjusting his clothes so he looked  _ somewhat  _ presentable, before he flopped back into the chair behind him. You sat up- body already aching from how hard he gripped you.

 

“You owe me for that.” You inform him, carefully sliding off of the table, and directly onto his lap. “Never said you could finish inside, asscruncher.”

 

He sighs through his nose, arms settling loosely around your waist. “Fine- I’ll make it up to you later. Just don’t call me asscruncher again.”

 

“Sure thing, dicksquisher.”

 

As you stood outside of the casino, fully clothed and with a sore ass from being pushed off of him, you thought about what just happened- and honestly? You’d definitely do that again.

 

You wonder if he’d be free, and not pissed off at you, tomorrow evening.


End file.
